


The Sounds Between The Silence

by BunnyBopper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Explicit Sexual Content, Hate Sex, M/M, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Past Sirius/James (unrequited), Smut, goading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyBopper/pseuds/BunnyBopper
Summary: Sirius finds out that even a late-night visit from Severus Snape is better than being alone in Grimmauld Place.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Comments: 28
Kudos: 157





	The Sounds Between The Silence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LogicGunn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicGunn/gifts).



The nights were always the worst. 

They say silence can be deafening but Sirius disagrees. Silence isn’t the problem. It’s the sounds between the silence that are truly unbearable. It’s the intermittent buzzing of the doxies from the room above, the steady ‘tick, tick, tick’ of the grandfather clock echoing down the hall, the muffled muttering of Kreacher from whatever dark corner he had crawled into this time, the blood-curdling shriek from the cell next door. He squeezes his eyes shut and plugs a finger into each ear in a vain attempt to stop the noise. 

No. It’s not a cellmate. Just mother dear. 

He curls in on himself, tries to remember that breathing thing Remus told him about, but he can’t think she’s just so damn LOUD! 

“SHUT UP!” 

Glass shatters against the peeling wall. A dark pool appears on the carpet as what's left of his firewhiskey seeps into it, adding to its many stains. The screaming stops. But it’s not his outburst that’s done it. 

Severus Snape is stowing his wand away into the swarth of black fabric that always surrounds him. He steps into the bare sitting room, looks from Sirius to the shards of glass, and back to Sirius again before arranging his face into a cool look of contempt. 

Sirius’ first instinct is to taunt him, to get in a cutting remark before Snape can fire off one of his own, but the time spent in Azkaban (and the firewhiskey) has dulled his wit. So much so that the best he can manage is: “Back for more, eh, Snivellus?” 

“As much as I enjoy swapping schoolyard insults with you, Black, I’m here strictly out of necessity.” 

True to his word, Snape’s narrowed eyes leave Sirius and begin scanning the room. It isn’t long before he spots what he needs – a small and neatly wrapped parcel sat atop his father’s old writing desk. Sirius vaguely recalls Kingsley mentioning something about someone coming to collect it at some point. He hadn’t realised the ‘some point’ meant just shy of midnight tonight or that ‘someone’ meant Snape who, without a word, starts striding towards it. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that this is MY house? You can’t just-” 

“I do not have time for this,” said Snape, picking up the parcel and shrinking it with a wave of his wrist. “The Headmaster sent me to-” 

“Oh yes, I forgot – Dumbledore tells you to jump; you ask how high.” 

Snapes gives him another look of pure hatred before turning to leave the way he came, but Sirius blocks his path. All the rage he’s been feeling over these past months, at the injustice he’s faced, at the lack of faith The Order has in him, at his own impotence, ignites within him. All of it focuses solely on the man in front of him. 

“What is this, Black? Are you going to turn your wand on me again? Potter isn’t here for you to impress this time.” He brings his sneering face in closer before softly adding: “Senior or Junior.” 

“Speak one word against James and I won’t hesitate.” 

“Ah, but you did try so _very_ hard to impress him didn’t you?” said Snape, as if he hadn’t heard. “Always fawning over him…indulging in his every whim… but he never noticed, did he?” 

“Shut up.” 

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you on his wedding day… playing the part of Best Man… when really-” 

Suddenly Snape is against the wall. Sirius can feel the hard bones of his shoulders as he tightens his grip. “I told you to shut UP!” he says, digging his fingers further into the soft flesh between them. 

Snape doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even reach for his wand. Just tips his head back and laughs. “You always did prefer to settle things with your fists, didn’t you?” He looks lazily into Sirius’ snarling face, the light from the fireplace glints off his black eyes. Sirius stares into them with as much resentment as he stares into the burning coals within it each night. Then he presses his mouth hard against Snape’s. 

Sirius can feel Snape’s whole body tense underneath him, but he doesn’t stop. Need is pulling taunt within him, threatening to snap. He doesn’t care if Snape punches him once he comes to his senses. Wants him to. Needs a reaction. Something physical. 

Snape moves. Sirius expects him to grasp at his arms, for Snape to push him away with all his might. But instead, he grabs hold of Sirius' hair, twists a handful of it around his fist, and pushes their mouths together harder still. Until it’s nothing but a scraping of teeth. So hard it hurts. 

Their lips are red and raw when they break apart. Sirius tastes blood. The briefest of moments pass before they are on each other again. Snape slides his hands under Sirius’ jumper, presses his thumbs hard into the hollows of his ribs. Sirius bites down on his shoulder, doesn’t let go until Snape’s hiss of pain turns into a whimper. 

They lose their footing in the struggle. Snape goes down first. Sirius does nothing to try and cushion his fall, enjoys the sound of his body hitting the floorboards, the wounded grunt that escapes him when Sirius crashes on top of him. He pins Snape’s arms to his side, presses his erection firmly into his hip. 

“Been a while, has it?” says Snape, still finding enough breath to taunt him with. 

Sirius swears at him, unable to tell if his body is growing hotter with anger or arousal. He slips a hand down into the front of Snape’s robes, smirks as he brings his half-hard cock the rest of the way there. 

But Snape wasn’t wrong – it had been a while. He had been locked up for most of his adult life. Only now did he feel the pull of everything he had missed. Now he had more than his own despair to keep him company. 

He tears at Snape’s robes. Fabric rips and buttons snap in his haste; his desire to see Snape’s vulnerability more than his body. Sirius is surprised when he doesn’t resist, just claws at Sirius’ own clothes in return. His too big shirt and trousers come off easily. 

They touch each other roughly. Leave angry marks over each other’s skin. Revulsion creeps over him both at the feeling of Snape’s bare skin against his and by how much he craves it.. 

Snape glares at him when Sirius pins his hands over his head, tries to hide his pleasure when Sirius slides his already slick prick against him. He takes one hand off Snape’s wrists experimentally and is pleased to find he remains in place. He eases off Snape slightly, moves his free hand down to grasp them both. 

Sirius grunts as he thrusts against the heat of Snape’s cock and the firm pressure of his own hand. He gazes down at Snape’s body beneath him, not with disgust this time, but with intrigue. There is something attractive about the arch of his back, the ripple of his ribs, the small noises that escape through tightly pressed lips as he tries to stifle his arousal, his determination not to give in. 

And when he does give in, it’s with an angry growl. 

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” 

Sirius stops mid-pace. In his surprise, he loosens his grip on Snape’s arm, who seizes the opportunity to break free. He rests on the back of his forearms, gives Sirius a look that is somehow challenging and defiant all at once. 

Still poised over Snape's body, Sirius considers what to do. He isn't exactly prepared for this. Perhaps he should just admit things had gone too far, tell Snape to get out of his house and hex him on the way out for good measure. That would be the sensible thing to do. 

But Sirius had never been sensible, and he isn’t going to start now. And he certainly isn’t going to be the one to back down. Not to the man who called him a coward. 

Sitting up, Sirius considers his options. His wandless magic is rusty at best, but he thinks he can manage a basic _Accio_. A bottle of olive oil flies in from the kitchen. They would just have to make do in the circumstances. 

“My, my,” says Snape, raising an eyebrow. “How will you be able to look Molly Weasley in the eye again?” 

“Seriously, Snape. Just shut up.” Sirius pours some of it into his hand and begins to coat his length, shuddering at his own touch. 

Snape tuts. “Careful there Black.” 

Growling in response, he grabs Snape by his parted thighs, sending him flat on his back again. Snape inhales sharply when Sirius pushes into him. Sirius feels him tense, just for a second, before relaxing around him with a sigh. 

The tight heat of being inside someone is almost too much for Sirius. But Snape is looking at him as if to say 'get on with it' so he clenches his jaw with determination, pulls back, then groans too loudly as he thrusts back in again. Eventually, he finds his rhythm, tries to focus on the dust underneath the sofa, the stains on the carpet, anything to dim the waves of pleasure that threaten to come crashing to an end all too soon. 

Snape's eyes are shut tight, one hand working his own cock with furious impatience as if keen for things to be over as soon as possible. The sight of him with his head tilted back, breathing out a steady chant of 'fuck, c'mon, c'mon, fuck' along with the crude sound of flesh against flesh sends Sirius' hips moving faster. He knows things are dangerous when he feels the numbness in his toes, the heat pooling in his stomach. Knows things are steadily reaching the point of no return. He pulls back and out of Snape, hisses through his teeth, and grips himself tightly by the base. 

Sirius takes a few steadying breaths while Snape eyes him with impatience. “Really?” he drawls. 

Choosing not to dignify him with a response, Sirius slicks himself up with the oil once again and positions himself against Snape's ass. He wraps a hand tight around Snape's cock and begins to work him over, because if he's going to come, Sirius is going to make damn sure it's on his terms. Only when Snape's cock is leaking and he's bucking into Sirius' hand, does he enters him again. 

Snape is looking at him now, want, and need overtaking his detestation for Sirius. Right now they are primal; sweat and teeth and raw, hard fucking. Sirius feels the pressure building, knows he's fast approaching the edge again, but Snape isn't far behind judging from the ragged breaths and near-constant groans. He wraps an arm around Sirius' back, leans in close to his ear. 

“Are you thinking about him right now?” he breathes. “Your dearly departed friend? Do you wish it were him you were about to come inside of?” 

Sirius answers Snape with a loud cry as he empties inside of him. He dimly aware of Snape biting down hard on his shoulder and he feels the heat of him come spill over his hand and on to his stomach. 

When it's all over, Snape pushes him away. He waves his hand in the direction of his clothes and they are back on his body in an instant, the high buttons and long sleeves covering every inch of him. He grabs his cloak, along with the mysterious parcel, and leaves without a word. 

The tick of the clock fills Sirius’ ears again. His mother screams. 


End file.
